Celia's Story
by IronManRidingaNimbus
Summary: Ever wondered how and why a Head Gamemaker becomes Head Gamemaker? Well through the passages of her journal, the first female Head Gamemaker, Celia Torrent, will take you through every step of her journey from being a scared child, to a paramilitary elite, and finally one of Panem's most controversial and terrifying Head Gamemakers. This is Celia's Story.


**Disclaimer: I do not own the Hunger Games, it is the sole property of Suzanne Collins and her affiliates. This is fan-fiction and I do not make any money from writing this, it is free to enjoy. I do retain ownership of my original characters - e.g. Celia Torrent - that feature in the story however, and any unauthorized use of my original characters will see a plagiarism claim leveled against whomever uses them.**

 **Celia's Story**

 **1**

 **Introduction**

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Quite often I sit and wonder why I bothered to pen a journal. Perhaps it's because the Second Rebellion actually succeeded, and now that I'm _under house arrest_ , I can use this journal to pass the time. It's funny in a way, I'd spent so many years defending the Capitol in my teens and twenties, and they decided to shut down the military unit I'd served in not 5 years before the Capitol fell. Budget cuts brought down the reign of President Snow, not the so-called _Mockingjay._ If my former comrades had still been in employment, the Second Rebellion would have been stopped before it had started. I only regret being too broken to help out. My military career had been cut short far too soon by an act of jealousy, but I'll get to that later. If I'm going to tell you the story of how I went from a naïve little girl, to a super-soldier, and then one of the most controversial Head Gamemakers in the history of the Hunger Games, then I suppose it would be best to start at the beginning. So, my name is Celia Andromeda Torrent, and this is my story.

At the time of writing this journal I am approaching my sixty-fifth birthday, and despite being a little slower than I used to be, Commander Paylor still thinks it best to keep me locked indoors so as not to put her fellow Rebels in danger. It is flattering, but fighting in wars is a young persons game, and though I hate to admit it, I'm a little past that stage now. So let me take this story back fifty-three years or so, to my twelfth birthday. It's a date I share with my sister Corsica – the first in a long list of people who fill my heart with regret, but during our childhood we were very close – and a boy she took quite a liking to, he went by the name of Darren. I don't know what's become of him, but I hope his fate was in no way similar to Corsica's.

So my story really begins here, on my twelfth birthday, on my way to a party that had been laid out for my sister and I. We were making our way down Trinkets Wynd – a small street in the Capitol, it's not there anymore, but it was beautiful and quaint in its time – my sister was dragging me kicking and screaming to the venue, I wasn't much of a party person at twelve, but my sister, who was two years my senior, was to preoccupied with the possibility of her dearly beloved showing up to our party to notice my discomfort. It was on this particular walk that we were robbed. Suffice to say it came as quite a shock. Trinkets Wynd was usually such a safe place, and it was the middle of the day, hardly a good time for petty theft if ever there was. The pair of us had just passed a row of shops when a dirty, dishevelled man pulled us into an alleyway and held a knife to us. We were scared stiff, and handed over what little money we were carrying. I felt so helpless, and the fear I saw in my sister's eyes frightened me more than the knife that the man was carrying. I hated that feeling, and I hated seeing my sister so terrified, so that very same day I began training. I say training, but what I really did that day was cry in my fathers arms for half an hour, and demand to learn how to fight, until eventually he took me to a local _dojang_ to learn Panem's only know martial art.

It's known as Tae Jut, and supposedly comprises of many ancient martial arts that predate Panem. I was horrible at it for quite some time. During my first training session the instructor sent me home with a nice set of bruises, and told me not come back the next day. In those days I was never a good listener. So every day for about three months I went home with a new bruise or scrape, and steely determination that one day I'd give my instructor a thousand bruises for every one of mine. For someone who ended up working for most of her adult life as a Gamemaker, and was Head Gamemaker for three years, learning to fight might seem a bit unnecessary, but it was never my first choice of job, and Tae Jut did come in handy when a Tribute needed taught a lesson in respect. After the first three months of getting beaten up, which is really all that happened during that time, I finally earned my first belt, and began to progress quickly through the ranks under a new instructor. She was a far better teacher, a nineteen year old by the name of Lucy, quite beautiful, and incredibly patient. She'd been practicing in Tae Jut since she was four years old, and by the time she was teaching me, she couldn't progress any further as a martial artist without challenging the Grand Master. It was Lucy who taught me properly, and not just the techniques and fighting styles that I needed to know. Lucy had a deep passion for her job, and I think it rubbed off on me a little; I've always tried injecting that passion into my work, whatever it may be. I looked up to Lucy as if she was some kind of hero, and perhaps even developed a bit of a crush on her, to tell you the truth.

This was during a time when the Capitol was more liberal, and didn't fear a second Rebellion. Things like martial arts could be taught to the general public, if they could afford it. It's commonly thought that every citizen of the Capitol is splendidly wealthy, but it wasn't the case back then, and in order to pay for my Tae Jut classes I had to work in a local convenience store packing bags for ungrateful customers. It was horrible work, but it taught me a lot about earning my way in the world, which was useful knowledge at such a young age. After I had completed my first year of training, I'd earned a black belt in Tae Jut. I was quite proud of my accomplishment – not many girls had progressed quite so quick as I – but my thirteen year-old self was crushed by the news that Lucy would no longer be my instructor, and I would now be under the tutelage of Panem's Grand Master. It was supposed to be a great honour, being handpicked by the Grand Master, and it was upon reflection, but I wanted to be taught by Lucy and nobody else. The Grand master was an aging man, quite wise, incredibly frustrating. He moulded me into something of an expert, and I'm grateful for it, but I really didn't like him.

I realize at this point in my journal that I've spoken more about training, and hardly anything about my family or friends. It's something of a reflex; I spent so much time training during my younger years that I hardly ever did anything else worth talking about. So here's a little background on my family: I was born during the year of the Eleventh Hunger Games, to Clive and Andromeda Torrent. I have only one sister, whom you already know about, and my family kept themselves to themselves. Oh, and they were Rebels, every one of them.

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 **Heyy guys,**

 **This is the start of a short story - which I'm writing as a companion to my story titled 'Under the Black Flag' - about Celia Torrent, one of Panem's most famous Head Gamemakers. This is her story, and it will tell readers of Under the Black Flag more about her past, but hopefully it is something that any reader can enjoy on its own, and perhaps it may even inspire you to read Under the Black Flag.**

 **I hope you've enjoyed reading this short, and your feedback is greatly appreciated.**

 **Thanks,**

 **Iron Man.**


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